Clearing The Air
by Miss M of Q
Summary: "He thought about the two of them now - two orphans sharing a bed in the middle of nowhere...They weren't so different after all." How Harry and Hermione's friendship survived Ron's departure. One-shot.


_**Author's Note:** This is the longest fic I've written thus far! Hope you enjoy! But, first things first..._

 ** _clear the air [idiom]_**

 _1\. To remove or improve stale air or an unpleasant odor._

 _2\. To discuss or otherwise confront a troublesome issue, usually with the goal of alleviating tension or confusion._

 _3\. To remove doubt from a situation._

 _Source: Farlex Dictionary of Idioms. © 2015 Farlex, Inc, all rights reserved._

* * *

 **Clearing The Air**

Despite wearing every jumper he owned, Harry found himself shivering as he guarded their tent for the night. An upcoming snowstorm had ushered him inside, forcing him to resume his duties through a tiny slit in the tent flap.

Occasionally he would steal glances at Hermione, his lone companion with whom he hadn't spoken in weeks. She laid unmoving in her bunk, probably asleep. She too was wearing multiple layers but unlike him, she did not seem to be struggling with the cold.

Ron's departure a few weeks earlier had taken something from both of them. Harry had since felt perpetually hollow; Hermione seemed to be trying to drown herself in tears. Neither seemed willing to acknowledge the other.

Harry miserably resumed his watch, wishing that it had all been a bad dream. With winter approaching, it was becoming more and more difficult to stay in one place for too long. This past week alone, Harry and Hermione had traversed an entire English countryside, eventually ending up on this lone isle in the middle of a Scottish loch. As if things weren't bad enough, a snowstorm was brewing. Harry made a mental note, adding 'being buried in snow' to their lengthening list of worries. Then again, it might be a welcome improvement to their current condition.

Without warning, a cold gust of wind slid through the slit in the tent flap, stabbing him in the face and wrenching him forcefully from his thoughts.

"It's not stopping anytime soon, is it? The snow, I mean."

Hermione's voice, despite sounding like she had a bad cold, carried well across the silent tent.

She had rolled over to face him. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were red and puffy. She'd been crying again.

"Seems like it," he replied, his voice catching slightly from disuse.

"Not much point staying up, is there? I don't think anyone will be out in this weather," she said.

She was probably right. He supposed Death Eaters hated the cold too. Anyway, their usual protective wards were up. That plus the physical obstacle of the snow made for a reasonably solid fort.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Harry? I think we can risk it tonight."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He sealed the tent flap and jumped right into his bunk, tangling himself in his sheets.

 _Plunk, plunk, plunk._ The sleet fell steadily onto the tent as Harry tossed and turned in bed. His blankets did very little for him by way of insulation; he was actually _losing_ warmth to them. He cursed himself for not having the foresight to pre-warm the bed...

"I can hear your teeth chattering all the way here," Hermione said rather irritably as she faced him a second time. She studied him for a moment.

"Oh, this is stupid," she said exasperatedly. "Just come over here before you lose a toe or something."

"No kidding," said Harry, his jaw stiff from the cold.

Without another word, Harry took the blankets from his bunk and settled next to Hermione, who lifted her covers for him. He laid his blankets over hers, making sure to spread all layers evenly between them. The warmth of Hermione's bed was a welcome change for his frozen arse.

Something smooth and warm grazed his leg; peering cautiously under the covers, he was greeted by the sight of familiar bluebell flames encased in a jar. _Of course._

Lifting the jar for her to see, he said "You could've just made me one for my bunk."

"Yeah, but I'm not in a very generous mood right now," she said shortly.

Harry wanted to remind her that she had just offered him a place in her warm bed but he didn't think she was in the mood for an argument either.

"Well then...good night, Harry," said Hermione as she turned away from him for the second time.

"G'night, Hermione...erm, thanks." said Harry sheepishly. She did not reply.

They laid like that for a while, with her back to him and him on his back. The irony of sharing a warm bed with someone who's been giving him the cold shoulder was not lost on him.

Despite her very generous offer to have him beside her, Harry noted that she seemed to be putting as much physical distance between them as possible. Her bunk wasn't very large but it could accommodate two full-sized adults reasonably well - so the fact that she was practically dangling off the far edge, away from Harry, was a dead giveaway.

"Er, Hermione?" he said tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"I can go back to my bed if this is bothering you," he mumbled at the wide gap between them.

"Why? So I can listen to your teeth chattering all night? No thanks," she snapped at him.

"You sure? Because everything about your position right now screams ' _get away from me_.'"

She shifted to face him fully.

"Well, forgive me for considering you might actually want space!"

"Oh come on, I don't need that much space!"

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"You could've asked! I am literally right next to you!"

"Fine," she said testily, reclaiming more of the space between them.

He looked at her incredulously - it was not like them to argue over something so _pointless_. That was something she did with Ron, not him.

Something in his brain clicked. His eyes sought and found the fine gold chain around her neck -

"Take the locket off, Hermione," he said gently.

Her hand flew to her neck and touched the necklace with a look of mild surprise. " _Oh_! I forgot..."

She pulled the chain of the locket Horcrux over her head. The effect was instantaneous; Hermione's face brightened.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, shaking her head as though clearing it of invisible smoke. "That was…" she faltered, unable to translate her emotions to words.

"Thanks," she said earnestly, giving him a small smile which he found himself returning.

"Why don't we take a break from wearing the locket?" he suggested. "Just for a little while!" he added when she looked like she was about to argue.

"But where would we keep it? We _mustn't_ lose it, Harry!"

"How about we hang it somewhere in plain view? So we'll always know where it is."

She considered this for a moment. "I suppose we could…" she said slowly. Then, propping herself up, she hung the locket above her bunk.

"I really hate that thing," she said darkly as she watched the locket swing above them like a beautiful but perverse baby mobile.

"Having it on makes me feel...tainted somehow. My magic feels muted. Sometimes I have trouble even with simple spells…"

"Sorry about the bluebell flames by the way," she said, biting her lip. "I wasn't being selfish, I just couldn't make more."

"That's okay. This is way better actually," he said motioning to their little arrangement. "More body heat to go around, see?"

"And besides," he continued, "who said Horcruxes were good for the health anyway? I can't wait to be rid of it, to be honest."

"It's good then that we're taking a break from it, isn't it?" she said.

"Yeah. Think of it like a holiday from er, evil," said Harry rather lamely.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sounds lovely," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Speaking of holidays...did you know that seasons in Australia are in opposite times as ours?" she said matter-of-factly. "That means it's summer there now."

She sounded so much like her old self that Harry could not help but smile at her fondly.

"Summer in December?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Uh-huh."

"So...no White Christmas over there, then?"

Hermione actually beamed at him in the way she usually does when a teacher asks a particularly difficult question that she knows the answer to.

"Actually, there is! Australian beaches have some of the whitest sands in the world. It's a different kind of white of course, but I suppose it still qualifies as White Christmas," she brightly.

"Think that's pretty clever now, don't you?" he teased.

Her arm swung out of nowhere to punch his shoulder. "Oh, shut up," she said as he chuckled, but she too was smiling.

"You ever been?" he asked.

"No. But my parents always wanted to go…"

She looked, unseeing, at the locket above - lost in thought. In his mind's eye, he tried to picture it: tall palm trees entrenched in white sand, the smell of salty mist mixed with the heat...

"Let's go there when this is all over, yeah?" he tossed carelessly, knowing she was too far away to hear anyway.

"Sure, why not?" came her reply. She hadn't gone too far yet. "But we'll have to pass by my parents' house first, to make sure they're doing okay. They're rather forgetful these days, you see."

He stared at her, unsure of how to react at her poor attempt at a joke. The stress must be wearing her down. Either that or she was terribly bored.

"Oh, lighten up. It was a joke," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

It was testament to the strength of their friendship that Harry decided to play along. Either that or he too was terribly bored.

"Bring them along, then! The beach is for everyone, even dentists!"

She gave a light laugh, and an unexpected warmth spread through his chest. It's been far too long since he heard that sound.

"Everyone? Even Mudbloods and Undesirables?" she asked slyly.

"Well, maybe not everyone…" he said, feigning deliberation. "I heard they cause loads of trouble. Wouldn't want that when you're on holiday, would you?"

"No, I suppose not," she said, trying to keep a straight face.

Without warning, thunder rumbled raucously outside, startling both of them. And just like that the illusion shattered, pulling them back forcefully into their cold, dark tent.

No one spoke for a while. Harry wondered if Hermione had finally fallen asleep. But from the corner of his eye, he saw that she was just as wide awake as he was.

"What are we doing?" she said suddenly, all traces of levity gone.

"What do you mean?"

"We're teenagers, Harry! What are we doing fighting a war?" she said indignantly.

"I didn't sign up for it, that's for sure," he said sullenly.

Harry wished she hadn't said anything, that they were still planning that hypothetical trip to Australian beaches. Now they were truly back in the tent, huddled for warmth as sleet pounded the canvas overhead.

She turned to face him, her eyes suddenly bright.

"Let's do it!"

"What, go to Australia?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes! We can travel by plane as muggles, or under the invisibility cloak! I think we have enough to cover the fare…"

Harry stared at her as though she's gone mad - which wasn't impossible at this point.

"Hermione, listen to yourself! You're not making any sense!"

"We could do it, Harry!" she said desperately. "No one knows where we are anyway. What does it matter if we're here or there?"

Harry looked at her sadly, not because he think she's gone mad but because he's had the same thoughts many times before. How often had he been tempted to simply give up and leave everything to more capable hands? And here she was fueling those thoughts, giving him a way out…

"Hermione, stop. _Please_ ," he pleaded. "You know why we can't...we're the only ones who can end this!"

"Only for a little while, Harry," she said, sounding more like a child than an eighteen-year-old woman. "I am just so _tired_...I know you are too."

They looked at each other, feeling utterly defeated. The storm outside raged on as they fell into silence once more.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "Forget I said anything. It was stupid. I was being stupid."

"Nah. I was thinking those things anyway. You just beat me to it."

"You were?" she asked with a tone of surprise.

"It's hard not to. And for the record, I never doubted for a second that we could do it," he said quietly. "But do you honestly believe we can live with it? Could _you_ live with it, Hermione?"

She dropped her gaze, concentrating instead on the frayed edges of her sleeve.

"Of course not. But I was kind of hoping you'd be stupid enough to say yes," she admitted sheepishly.

"Sometimes I wish I were."

For far too long, Harry had been fixated on the unhappy fact that this mission was left specifically to him. Ron and Hermione were free to live their lives without obligation - free to walk away from this terrible burden that was his, and his alone.

"Why did you stay anyway?" he asked suddenly. "You could've gone with...with _him_. Why didn't you?"

She sighed. "I already told you," she said, "I gave you my word that I will follow you anywhere…"

"I like to keep my promises." There was a trace of bitterness in her voice Harry had never heard before. He couldn't help but think that that was a jibe at Ron.

"As for leaving, I've thought of it - obviously," she said referring to their earlier conversation. "But in my mind, you two always came with me."

Harry was touched by her loyalty but as her words echoed in his mind, he realized with a pang of guilt what it all meant: she'd essentially orphaned herself to join him on this perilous journey. But unlike Ron, whose Pureblood status could protect him, being Muggleborn meant that she was hunted just as much as he, Undesirable No. 1, was…

She could not walk away from this any more than he could. Even if she wanted to. She was stuck with him until they figure out a way to end this. The guilt he initially felt was immediately replaced by something akin to... _relief_. He hadn't realized just how lonely he'd been until now.

"Hermione…" he said, trying to muster his emotions. He wanted to tell her how much her mere presence meant to him, but words failed him.

She seemed to have sensed his frustration because she smiled at him knowingly, shushed him, and simply said, "I know."

He drew closer to her and laid his head on her shoulder. Eventually, he felt her head rest against his.

He thought about the two of them now - two orphans sharing a bed in the middle of nowhere. Is this how it'll be like for them from now on?

He thought about how she, like him, was brought up as a muggle, not knowing about magic until her eleventh birthday...how she never had brothers or sisters...how she had no friends before Hogwarts... the list went on.

They weren't so different after all.

Not long after, slumber came to claim them. But before it could take them away, Harry wanted one last word with Hermione.

"Just so we're clear…," he began groggily.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We finish this, _and then_ we can go swim with the dentists," she finished for him, yawning.

He chuckled softly. He felt her smile into his hair.

They were still going to fight. It could take months, even years. But in that moment it hardly mattered, because in the midst of this awful snowstorm, on a tiny island in the middle of a Scottish loch - they were all each other had. And it wasn't such a terrible thing after all.

 ** _A/N:_** _Liked it? Hated it? Let me know, leave a review! Thanks!_


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